a/n: Oh my god! Chapter seven does exist! But seriously---I am sorry it took this long for me to write this. Please forgive me! In payment, this is my longest chapter yet.
Kingdom Hearts is the property of Square and Disney. No amount of wishing can change that... without further ado, here's the chapter! I hope you enjoy reading.
Chapter Seven
Roxas had once spoken with a wise man.
The wise man had imparted three pieces of advice.
One---never sit with your back to the exit, no matter where you are.
Two---somebody who needs to ask you if you're "okay" is not your friend.
Three---Never, ever, become someone you're not. Because all you'll really be doing is kidding yourself, even if the whole bright world around you is deceived.
Well, okay. The school delinquent wasn't exactly a wise man, and he hadn't exactly been talking to Roxas.
Still, sometimes things become habit. Roxas always sat facing the door. He didn't really have any friends.
And number three?
Well. Roxas never really was one for habits, anyway.
You might be asking yourself, what exactly has Roxas done? And what exactly is he thinking?
What he has done is easily enough explained---it involves semi permanent hair dye, a pair of color contacts, and two shopping bags full of what the sales lady assured him were very chic clothes.
It also involves spending the last of his money and adopting a whole new persona.
As for what he is thinking, well. What he is thinking is that he is a mere two steps away from imminent victory over the cool guy.
I probably don't even have to tell you that this is mistake number two.
"I'm warning you, Axel---if that kid is trapped in an elevator somewhere, I'm calling that woman and telling her it was your fault." Xigbar admonished, brandishing an accusing finger.
Axel rolled his eyes as he sauntered out of the apartment building, accidentally leaving the clipboard on the couch.
"Whatever. Listen, tell me if you see Marluxia around. I need to speak with that bastard."
"Why's that?"
"You, of all people, should know why," Axel said over his shoulder, stopping completely.
"Hey. He'll be getting out soon. You can see him then."
"Yeah. I know."
And then he was gone. Xigbar shook his head slightly and winced---the healing effects of the steam had worn off. He weighed the advantages of looking for Roxas against the advantages of relaxing with a newspaper and eating breakfast. Or lunch. More like a late lunch, really.
"He's a tough kid. He handled Larxene, he can handle an elevator."
And besides, it wasn't like he was going to deliberately seek out the company of those people who could do him considerable harm.
The first thing to do, Roxas decided as he stood awkwardly in the dark wash jeans, distressed t shirt, and trendy charcoal jacket, was to go and find one of those people who'd been around Axel before and see if he had done a good enough job of transforming himself.
Fate works in mysterious ways, and since he is the protagonist here, it works doubly so for Roxas:
No sooner had he turned around that he collided with a tall blue haired blur. He stumbled once and quickly caught hold of the young man's wrist, teetering out of balance.
"I'm quite sorry," Roxas said, stifling his natural impulse to speak choppily and quickly, reaching for the slightly refined voice he had used to recite literature in class.
"No, no, no---don't be sorry. I was running, it's my fault." He---and despite his slender frame and silky long hair, it was a he---panted, slumping forward with his pale hands on the knees of his tapered corduroy pants.
When he looked up, Roxas was met with an alluring angular face, deep set golden eyes, and a bold scar composed of two slashes on the man's otherwise smooth forehead, forming an X.
"Not at all. Are you all right?"
He immediately recognized him to be one of that arrogant group from the party the night before. He'd stood to the far left, Roxas remembered, and had watched the scene unfold with barely a change of expression. Had he joined in the laughter, in the snide smiles? That he couldn't recall.
"Fine, thank you. And you? I hope I didn't hit you too hard….by the way, I don't think I've ever seen you before. What's your name?" He cocked his head to one side, reminding Roxas of an inquisitive tropical bird---bright and curious and strange.
Name? Name? Roxas searched his mind frantically. Despite his careful planning, the issue of a name hadn't occurred to him. But of course he couldn't use his real name, the chances were too high that someone had actually paid attention to him. He looked around. His eye caught on the mirrored store front next to them, in which the street signs were reflected backwards, and upon the X shaped scar of the stranger.
"My name is…Sora," He said as coolly as he could manage. Is that really the best I can come up with? He thought. It wouldn't take two seconds for someone to realize that it was an anagram for his real name. But there was no helping it now, and indeed the man barely blinked at the sound of it.
"That's an interesting name," He commented.
If, at any point and time in Roxas's relatively short life, he should have paid closer attention to the subtleties in a person's voice, it would have been then. It would have saved him a great deal of grief and trouble, and just maybe, it might have solved all of his problems.
Unfortunately for his soon to be future self, it was not meant to be.
"Ah! But I'm being rude. My name is Saix. Saix Mer." Saix leaned closer, offering his hand.
When Roxas took it in his own to shake the man leaned in further, his eyes brushing Roxas's.
Roxas flinched at the unexpected proximity---his hand was unexpectedly chilly. Immediately Saix pulled back, releasing his hold.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you. I was just thinking that your eyes are the most peculiar shade of blue."
As well they should be, Roxas thought. He had bought the vivid blue contacts to go over his own robin's egg gaze in order to come up with a striking color---one that wasn't easily forgotten, so that people wouldn't guess they had seen him before.
"People say that every so often."
"So, then. You're new. When did you get here?"
"I arrived last night. Traffic was horrible." Roxas found that lying through his teeth got considerably easier as he went on.
"I see. A lot of people are attracted to the possibilities of a city like this." Saix's tone was almost bitter when he swept his hand in a gesture meant to take in everything around them.
"Of course."
"And so, why are you here then?"
"I guess you could say I'm here to become someone else." Roxas answered carefully, satisfied to hear the ring of truth in his words.
A tainted, warped truth, the reality of which was sending his mental state to hell---but truth nonetheless.
Saix stood stock still. Then he doubled over, unable to suppress the laughter fighting to escape. A combination of surprise and curiousity overcame him every time he tried to stop.
Roxas stared in consternation at the spectacle, lamely waving at passersby to just keep going.
"I'm sorry---I'm not laughing at you. Well. Maybe I am."
And then he was incapable of speech, while Roxas stood and tried to fight against the flush creeping across his neck.
"I shouldn't have asked so personal a question," he said, calmer. "But I didn't think that you would answer. And with such an interesting answer! So novel, so…different, from any other response I could have hoped to get. Say---I was chasing someone down just now---a rogue novelist---you see, I'm an editor, but that's not important---would you like to go grab some coffee?"
"Are you really sure this is okay? What about your novelist?" Roxas asked later, stirring some cream into his coffee.
The café was a small, out of the way place, with classic furniture and décor---its detached warmth was such welcome contrast from the chain café on his first floor that after seeing the inside he willingly followed Saix over to a table in a secluded but inviting corner.
There was something distinctly fluid about the way the man moved. He stepped lightly, but not without purpose---something Roxas approved of greatly. His motions were graceful and delicate, making him think somewhat of Marluxia.
Marluxia.
The thought of his employer's name alone was enough to remind him that this was not a joyride. Becoming Sora was a means to an end, and atleast part of that end had to arrive before the day was out or Roxas would be completely and thoroughly screwed over for life.
"Well…let's just say, circumstances being as they are, he can't have strayed far." Saix smiled, sharp canines prominent.
Roxas turned his splutter into what he hoped was a polite cough. "I see," he managed (at the same time wondering what, exactly, he was getting himself into).
"Do you?" Amusement in the form of a lifted brow. For the large part Saix's face remained expressionless, but for the smallest of frowns. It was a frown that seemed almost perpetual and the longer Roxas looked at it the sadder it appeared. (It was at great odds with his lively, teasing eyes, eyes that warned him of arrogance but spoke of kindness.)
"Ah—no, I suppose I really don't."
"Truth is the first step to enlightenment."
Roxas barely kept himself from flinching. Was it possible…that Saix was, to use the cliché, on to him? "You think so?" He uttered. He covered himself by taking a slow sip of his coffee.
(If he was not in so much apprehension, Roxas might have done well to notice that the only thing he'd had to eat since that blueberry muffin was coffee. Hundreds of miles away his mother was no doubt also flinching.)
"Oh, yes. It's quite applicable as well."
"Applicable?" If it would not be putting himself in obvious jeopardy, Roxas would have squeaked.
"Of course. What good is a belief if one cannot put it into use?"
Hearing these words, Roxas looked at his dark reflection in the cup he held firmly between his hands. It was an unfamiliar reflection. Would, he wondered suddenly, his mother recognize him looking like this? His gaze shifted to the swirling (in the coffee) background.
Behind him was the wall---his choice of seating gave him a clear, open view of the exit.
"Are you suggesting," Roxas started mildly, "that a person cannot have hold of a philosophy without putting it to use?"
"I am not suggesting it, Sora."
For reasons Roxas couldn't fathom, a half sigh escaped his lips.
"I am declaring it."
Roxas's hand twitched, and the coffee mug slipped from his grip to spin crazily on its side.
For perhaps half a second it remained balanced on its rim. Only half a second, mind.
And then it hit the glass surface of the table with an alarming shatter that mingled with Roxas's quick grunt of pain as one of the shards from the mug found its way into his right hand, slicing the pale skin and dredging up a thin line of blood.
Saix immediately stood up and began mopping up the mess. He gingerly picked up the pieces, folding them up into a napkin.
"Waiter!" He called before asking Roxas intently, "Are you okay?"
The words stuck in Roxas's head as he calmly wiped the blood off. The cut was a shallow one---that kind that looks ugly but really wasn't---the shard had sliced his hand from one side around to the palm in a smooth curve.
"I'm fine, it's not deep at all."
"Good. We had a small mishap," he explained to the waiter, who was staring at Roxas's hand.
"Still, I'm sorry. Again. We've just met and I've only had cause to apologize."
"Not at all; both times it was my own clumsiness." Roxas matched him evenly stride for stride. He was starting---for some reason---to get the feeling that this man, like Larxene, was wearing a polite façade.
Or maybe it's just that I'm the one behind a façade, he thought. But that was the idea. It was his plan, god dammit, the only one he could come up with on such short notice. He was tired of playing by the rules and so he would cast them aside, starting with the identity that had thus far got him nowhere.
"If you say so…well, I'm sorry to be so abrupt after sweeping you away like this, Sora. I'm sure you were in the middle of something."
The man's tone was smooth enough to be considered oily, now.
"Oh, nothing much, just what I've been doing since I got here." Searching this city top from bottom. I'd like to see you give it a try, Mr.Mer.
"But haven't you just arrived?"
Shit. "Of course. I meant…becoming someone else."
There was that predatory smile again, and a flash of something almost tribal in his golden eyes.
"I see. Becoming someone else. We never discussed exactly why you'd want to do that…Sora."
Roxas searched the man's eyes. He was suddenly compelled to try a trick his best friend---a cheerful, rowdy guy named Hayner---had schooled him to use. A person is never as likely to maintain eye contact for more than a few seconds with a stranger as opposed to someone they know, even if they only met once.
"That's not a trick," Roxas remembered arguing, shoving his friend. (What was Hayner doing now, he wondered.)
"You say that now. But sometimes it's little things like that that end up being useful."
And so Roxas started counting.
One.
Two.
Th—
Saix looked down and out the window.
That was enough information for Roxas. Coupled with his manner of speech and other telltale signs, despite his altogether creepy remarks, he was truly seeing a stranger named Sora and not a messenger boy named Roxas.
"A person has many reasons for the things they do," Roxas said, getting up to leave. "In this case I only have one, but it's a pretty good reason. I think I've already succeeded. Until we meet again, then," he said, moving toward the exit which he'd kept within his sights.
And though he knew it might blow his cover, for those thirty seconds Roxas walked like he meant it.
"Bloody amazing," Saix said to himself, watching the trendy figure take his unique leave. "Sora. Self assured, intelligent, philosophical and polite---a rapier wit that never quite showed itself, and an astounding display of individuality. I've got to introduce this guy to Axel."
He even had the perfect opportunity to do so.
"But…you promised! Namine is going to kill me if you don't show up at her art show, Axel. Please. I'm begging you. I'm your flesh and blood, for pity's sake! And I already told her you would. And so if you don't show, she's going to really kill me this time. I'm too young to die, Axel!"
Axel lifted an eyebrow at the antics of the younger man lounging beside him. He paused his unpacking, setting down a stack of fantasy novels.
"Too naïve to die, maybe. Dem, she's got you on a leash. And you're not even straight. If Namine told you to go jump off a bridge, would you do it?"
"Axel. This is Namine we're talking about."
"...actually, you've got a point. For anyone else…"
"Namine would have a good reason."
"Staying on the bridge would probably be worse, anyway."
"Staying on the bridge would probably be certain death, Axel." Demyx sighed. "She really adores you, you know? Her eyes light up whenever someone says your name. Of course, most people's eyes do that, but for her it's…like magic."
"She's a good girl," Axel acquiesced.
"Yeah. So touch her and you're dead, you hear?" Demyx muttered.
"Loud and clear. Kairi would probably butcher me before I got within ten feet of her, though, even if I was interested."
"Damn straight… wait, so are you saying you'll go?"
"Of course I'm going, Dem, it's Namine's first art show. I'd be a cold bastard not to go."
Roxas hadn't made it three feet down his hallway when a dark shape grabbed hold of him, swinging him up in the air.
"Roxas! You're alive! You're okay! You're--" The spark of joy in his landlord's eyes spluttered and snuffed out when he swung Roxas back around, and they faced each other nose to nose. "---you're not Roxas," he said, and released him.
"Damnit, Xiggy!" Roxas yelped, rubbing his tailbone. It was the same unforgiving floor that had broken his china two nights ago. "Of course it's me."
"I don't know who you are and what you fucking want, man, but nobody calls me Xiggy without my permission. If you've got something to say, say it, or get lost."
The younger man couldn't believe his eyes. He took out his room key, and shoved it under Xigbar's nose.
"See? It's me."
"You...you…"
"Yeah, that's---"
"----you fucking mugged my tenant?!"
"No! I AM your fucking tenant!" Roxas roared. What the hell was wrong with this man?
Digging in his pocket, he took out the contact case and quickly removed his lenses. He dragged a cursing Xiggy to the bathroom that everyone on the floor shared and bent his head under the sink, scrubbing with his hand furiously for a moment, and finally took off his jacket.
He spun around, hands on hips.
"Do you see now?" He demanded.
"You lost me, Roxy."
"Okay. It came to me when I was eating breakfast downstairs---"
"You were…here? This morning? Like, here?"
"Yes…" Roxas said slowly. "Why? I didn't have time to come up. See, I kind of spent the night in the street."
"You what?"
"Just what I said. I was running after Axel, but I couldn't catch him, so…" he shrugged. "I think I must have passed out. Marluxia woke me up since it turned out I'd fallen down right outside the flower shop. Go figure, huh?"
"Tell me again."
So Roxas recounted the night before, his experience with Marluxia and company, his revelation, and the beginnings of his plan to ensnare Axel.
"You've got some kind of luck, kid. Axel was here. He spent the night in your room, listening to your sweet old mum rant on the answering machine."
"He was what?!"
"The nerve of him, right? I told you---always there when you're not looking, and nowhere to be found when you are. He's like that. By the way, he had a clipboard with him, and seemed smug about it."
The blood drained from Roxas's face. So he hadn't lost the damned thing after all. Axel had taken it from him. But when? Surely…not when he was unconscious?
"That cold bastard," Roxas swore.
"Don't worry, he left it on your couch….kid. Look at me for a second. You sound awfully worked up. Are you sure you want to continue this? I mean, if you're that hard up, I know plenty of people who'd hire a determined kid like you, a kid with your kind of conviction."
"I appreciate the sentiment, Xig. But…I need to do this. You don't understand, if I don't do this then it means I'm without conviction. It means I'm without determination. It means I'm not everything I said I'd be. I can't make a liar out of myself."
"And pretending to be someone else isn't lying?"
"I…"
"I'm not criticising you, Roxy. I'm just saying, it doesn't sound like you."
Roxas laughed shortly. "That's the point, isn't it? Don't worry. I can pull this off, I'm sure of it. From here on out everything will get simpler."
"I suppose…Roxas?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you hear sobbing coming from your room?"
They ran back down the hallway and flung open the door to Roxas's apartment in time to hear a voice that sounded like it was teetering on the brink of something not-so-nice.
"Roxas, this is your mother. Again. My dear son, I can only come to the conclusion that either you have been kidnapped, or you are dead. And if you're not the former then you'd better hope you're the latter, because bad things happen to young men who don't humor their mothers. Do you understand me, Roxas? I hope you do. The weather here is cloudy. Like my soul. Love, your mother."
"Are…you sure you didn't want to get that?"
The two stood looking at the phone. It was green. Sort of old. And yes, distinctly menacing.
"N-nah," Roxas said, slightly shaken. "I think I'll take my chances with Axel."
"Sounds wise."
"Yeah."
"Your mom kind of reminds me of this girl I know…shit!"
"Huh?"
"Comon, kid, fix yerself up---I almost forgot, I've gotta be somewhere tonight. A friend's having an art show."
"An art show?" Something like hope leapt in Roxas's chest.
"Yeah, sounds lame, but she'll kick my ass if I don't show."
"Not at all. He loves art."
"What was that?"
"Nothing," Roxas smiled. It was a smile graced with the confidence that the pieces were finally starting to come together.
The girl standing in the middle of the soft white room was petite, with sky colored eyes and pale yellow hair that draped over her delicate shoulders like a graceful shroud. She was clad in a simple but stylish white dress, with cute white flats.
A small smile formed on her faintly rosy lips as she surveyed the exhibit. It was literally Namine Blanc's life work. Her art was colorfully reminiscent of a happy childhood and at the same time displayed an ominous knowledge of the unforgiving world. To say that her art was her life would be putting things lightly.
She had to refrain from looking up at the artistic clock every few minutes, pausing in her excited pacing to smooth the ruffles in her dress for the twelfth time.
The first visitors would be arriving through the doorway soon, and she wanted to look perfect.
Because everything around her was perfect. As it should be. In its proper place.
It was her night to shine. Nothing, she felt, could ruin this.
It just so happened that on Namine Blanc's night to shine, a young man named Riku decided to take his dog for a walk.
Since Roxas couldn't have influenced Riku's decision, it wouldn't be fair to call this mistake number three.
But for all intents and purposes, it was.
a/n: Wow, long chapter! And a weird chapter, too. It does get the story moving again. You get points if you realized that the interaction with Saix served to illustrate the pieces of advice mentioned in the beginning...those'll definitely be popping up. Hospital? Art show? Riku?! Oh my!
In any case, if you're reading this story, or have it on alert, go ahead and leave me a review! Tell me what you think about the chapter and the story in general. (in case you're wondering, I'm feeling insecure about this chapter. But I felt so bad about not posting that I put it up anyway. But never fear, there's always editing. Right? Right? Guys?)
